


Dreams Made Flesh

by orphan_account



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: F/M, First Time, Missing Scene, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-11-07
Updated: 2010-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during "Queen of the Darkness," Daemon wants to be Jaenelle's consort for true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams Made Flesh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/gifts).



_He is going to laugh at me,_ Jaenelle thought. She had overheard--okay, she had been mentally spying on--Daemon and Lucivar discussed the air-headed women they were forced to service when they had been bound by the Ring of Obedience. One witch had wanted to dress up and reenact her favorite novel. Lucivar howled with laughter when Daemon told him the details.

Jaenelle glared at her own romance novel, like it were the cause of all her problems. Weren't books supposed _explain_ things to young witches? How was she supposed to know that they were not accurate portrayals of courtship? She felt like such an idiot. Mother Night! She had a crush on Daemon Sadi since they danced together in her Nursery. Now, after long years of dreaming, he finally wore her Consort's ring and she hadn't the slightest idea what she was supposed to _do_ to make dreams a reality.

"Dreams made flesh," she grumbled, bitterly and threw the novel across the room. _Stupid book,_ she thought.

... And then she realized: just because _this_ book was no help, that didn't mean there _weren't_ books on the subject.

*

Daemon knocked gently on Jaenelle's door. He had spent the evening with Lucivar, working up the courage to approach Jaenelle again. He didn't know if he could take another night of sleeping in the room next to her, dreaming about her, wishing he were in her bed. He had waited centuries to be Witch's consort, and now that he was... nothing. She couldn't get away from him fast enough.

There was no answer to his knock, so he cautiously pushed the door aside. He was relieved not to find a giant cat sprawled in her bed, but disappointed to not see a _woman_ there either. Jaenelle's room was empty. At this time of night? Where could she possibly be?

Was she... with someone else?

The thought was like a knife in his gut. The "boyos" were certainly closer to her age. _They_ had never been whores. Maybe he didn't want him, like he wanted her.

Without thinking, he sent out a mental thread to locate her. She was nearby ... and excited about something. He shut down the mental connection and then paced the room. Excited or _excited_?! It hurt to admit to himself that he didn't know the difference when it came to Jaenelle. He thought he might be sick, or kill someone. Or be sick and kill someone.

He sat on the edge of the bed and waited to hear Jaenelle return to her room. He waited for a good three minutes before the waiting became too much for him. He had _been_ patient for seven hundred years. That was his limit. He couldn't do it anymore. He got up, locked his own door and headed in Jaenelle's direction.

Daemon still didn't know his way around Saetan's keep that well. If he didn't use Craft, he could easily get lost. So when he came to a stop in front of the large, mahogany door, he wasn't sure what was inside. Was this someone's bed chamber? Was she with another man? Was she with another woman?!

Candlelight flickered under the door. And then he remembered.

*

Jaenelle searched through Saetan's library by candlelight. It was like being a kid again, reading the forbidden books at night, in secret. Unlike Alexandra Angelline, Saetan, of course, would let her read any book she asked for; she just wasn't sure how to ask her Papa for a book on sexual relations. If he weren't already demon-dead, that might kill him.

"I guess some things never change," said honey-coated voice from the shadows. Daemon stepped into the light, his golden eyes glinting in the dark.

Jaenelle jumped back from the stacks, like she had been scalded. She felt her blood pound in her ears, but not from fear. How had she not known he was there? Was it because he had been thinking about him? Had she called to him somehow?

"What?" she asked, nervous and unsure. He looked at her. "Oh," she said, remembering. When he was a child, he had caught her going through her grandmother's library. She had been afraid he would turn her in, but he never had. She was similarly afraid now, but not because he'd tell on her but because _he_ was the puzzle she was trying to solve.

"What book are you looking for now?" he asked, smiling. "Don't tell me you still can't call your shoes."

Jaenelle stepped away from the shelf he had been perusing, hoping that he wouldn't look to closely at the books. "Actually," she said in a whisper, "I still can't do that. I just ask Ladvarian where they are."

Daemon just blinked. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he embarrassed to serve a Queen who couldn't do basic Craft? Had he ever truly realized that, though he was the most powerful witch in the realms, there was still much that was beyond her understanding?

After a time, he said, "You could ask me. I would call your shoes for you."

Jaenelle laughed. It was a ridiculous notion. Daemon Sadi, Warlord Prince, one of only two male Black Widows in all the Realms, offering to fetch shoes for a girl. But there was something strange in his voice that she didn't quite recognize. Like he was jealous of _Ladvarian_ \--the dog! She hadn't noticed it until his face changed when she laughed. Had she upset him _again_? She felt like such an idiot.

"Daemon..." he said, but then stopped, unsure of what she wanted to say exactly.

She looked away. The silence seemed to stretch on forever. It was the most awkward silence of her entire life. Days passed. Possibly years.

"Well," he said finally, a coldness in his voice. "I suppose I should go to bed, Lady. Unless you need help getting books off the high shelves."

He turned to leave her. Sensing that she had done something wrong-- _again_ \--Jaenelle called after him with the first thing that came to her mind. "How do I learn how to be Queen?" she asked. She meant: How do I learn to be a good Queen? How do I learn to be _your_ Queen?

Only his head turned. "You don't learn to be Queen; you just _are_ a Queen. Even when you were twelve you were Queen."

Jaenelle huffed. "Alexandra Angelline _was_ Queen; I don't want to be like her." She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Compared to the others, Alexandra might've been considered a "good" Queen, but still she had done things that Jaenelle couldn't understand. Like allow Uncle Bobby into her house.

Perhaps because he thought she was cold, Daemon came closer, reaching out to stroke her arm. "You're not like her," he said softly.

The gentle contact sent new shivers up Jaenelle's spine. Instinctively, she reached out to touch his shoulders, in return. "You'll tell me, if I ever act like her, won't you?" she whispered. The other Queens in her Circle could offer support. Saetan and Lucivar could guide her. But none of them had been there. They didn't know. Daemon had served in Alexandra Angelline's court. He had lived in Jaenelle's house. He was the only one. Didn't he understand that? How important he was?

She felt his hands brush her back, soothingly. "You're nothing like her," he repeated.

"Promise?" she said, in a soft, scared voice. Sometimes he lied, she knew. Daemon Sadi was a good liar. She remembered him in the Misty Place. He said it was for her own good, but he had looked into her eyes and lied to her. Since then she had never been quite sure where she stood with him.

"I promise," he said.

Then he kissed her. It was _nothing_ like the kisses she'd received from boys in Little Terrielle. It wasn't wet or sloppy. It was soft and warm. The heat rushed from her mouth, to her core, and then all the way to the very tip of her toes. Before she knew it, she was gasping for breath, heart hammering in her chest.

"Daemon," she breathed, but still he didn't let her go. He ran his hands over her arms and shoulders, down her back, and up into her hair. It was as if, now that he had started, he couldn't stop touching her. She didn't want him to.

"My Queen," he purred. He actually purred! Like Kaelas! Mother Night! How did he _do_ that? Jaenelle leaned her forehead against his. If anyone else had purred she would have laughed, but she felt like anything but laughing. His contentment rippled through her nerve cells, so her entire body sang with the vibrations. She had said that the body was his, but she hadn't realized what that meant until this moment. She would let him have whatever he wanted.

*

They emerged from Saetan's library, still linked together. Daemon was afraid that someone would happen upon them between here and the bedchamber, and somehow break the spell, sending Jaenelle scurrying away from him again. He had, of course, considered throwing her down on the floor and taking her in the library, but this would be her their first time together, her first time ever. It wasn't appropriate for a Queen. He wanted to get this _right_.

Fortune, for once, favored Daemon Sadi. No one interrupted, and when he pushed open the the door to her bedchamber there was not a dog or cat in sight. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, and shut the door behind them. Immediately, he pulled her into his arms again, afraid the awkwardness would come back if he stopped touching her.

Now his kisses were hungrier, more desperate. He wanted her to know how long he had waited, how much he had wanted. He was pleased to discover that she could match him, responding to his desire with fire of her own, pushing her tongue into his mouth like she wanted to climb inside of him.

Without thinking, he moved them toward her large bed. Their legs were so close together that they were practically tripping over one another. Then, he really did trip. It was embarrassing--she always _had_ known how to deflate his ego--but he didn't mind so much because she caught him mid-stumble, fell into the bed to keep him upright, and held him close.

Daemon looked down to see what it was he had tripped over; it was a book with a half-naked man on the cover. He couldn't have been more surprised. _His_ Queen read _those_ kind of books? Curious, he picked it up. The man on the cover stared back at him with hooded, bedroom eyes. Daemon would have been jealous if a small voice in his head hadn't pointed out how much this model, with his sleek, dark hair and confident demeanor, looked like _him_.

He grinned at her with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

Jaenelle tried to snatch the book from his grasp, but he twisted out of her reach. Two bright pink spots colored her cheeks. "That's just a silly book Karla gave me," she said dismissively. "Something light to read during our moontimes..."

Daemon did not laugh. He found something reassuring in the book. His Queen was _not_ a little girl anymore. She had sexual fantasies--and he could fulfill them if he did his job properly. In one smooth motion, he ripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. It had been an expensive shirt but this was worth it. He took one more look at the book cover, and struck a similar pose.

"What do you think?" he asked, looking at her with the same bedroom eyes as the novel's rogue.

Jaenelle clapped her hand over her mouth. For a brief moment, he was afraid she was going to laugh, but she didn't. Her eyes went wide, and then she said in a soft, awe-struck voice, "Dreams made flesh."

Daemon growled and crawled up the bed, cat-like, to kiss her, pushing her back against the soft pillows. He let the book fall, forgotten, to the floor when their lips met again. With fewer clothes between them, all he could think about was her writhing beneath him. He felt her hands, shaky but insistent, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers. He thought he might weep, he was so happy to be her consort in more than just name.

With deft fingers, Daemon freed Jaenelle from her soft pajamas. He sucked in a deep, sharp breath when he discovered nothing but skin underneath them. Immediately, like they had a mind of their own, his hands cupped her breasts and rubbed the hardened nipples between his fingers. Then it was Jaenelle's turn to draw a sharp breath.

Suddenly frantic, Daemon kicked off his pants so they were both naked. The evening was cold, maybe he should have wrapped her in blankets, but he wanted to see her--all of her--when he made love to her at last. He hadn't counted on _her_ interest in seeing _him._ With one elegant finger, Jaenelle reached out and touched his already hard cock, stroking from base to tip. Daemon wasn't prepared for the wonder in her eyes. She'd never seen one, not like this.

Daemon Sadi made an undignified noise. Later, he would blame the years he had been bound by the Ring of Obedience and, therefore, unable to achieve erection for how crazy one touch made him. If he was not careful--very careful--he was going to come all over her thighs, without ever entering her at all.

He hissed and kissed her with wild abandon, causing her to lose contact with his member. All the while his brain whirled. He needed her to be as close to the edge as he was, otherwise he was going to embarrass himself, like a schoolboy. So, leaning on his left elbow, he slipped his right hand between their entwined bodies. He flicked the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs with his thumb, and slid his forefinger inside of her.

Mother Night! She was so hot and her entrance was slick like he couldn't believe. _She's wet for_ me, he thought, gleefully. Then, because one could never be too sure about these things, he put his second finger into her as well. Wet. So wet. He rubbed her until she bucked erratically beneath him.

When he removed his hand, Jaenelle gave a very satisfying whimper of protest. "Shhh..." he said, stroking her golden hair and trailing kisses along her neck.

Then, without much ceremony, he entered her. Jaenelle literally screamed with pleasure. It was wonderful. He could've died a happy Warlord Prince at that moment. But, of course, dying was out because he still had to serve his Queen.

Daemon held her bucking hips, and showed her the right rhythm. Their bodies came together with happy, wet smacking sounds. It wasn't long at all before her muscles tightened and shook. Jaenelle _bit_ his neck to keep from howling. His little Jaenelle! It was too much. He came along with her, pumping years worth of desire into her womb.

She sighed and fell back onto the bed, breathing heavily. He put his lips to her neck, feeling the rapid speed of her pulse. Daemon was tired, spent, but he also felt more alive than he had in years. He felt like dancing a jig around the room. Instead, he did something he had never willingly done before. He kissed her lightly on the mouth, then buried his face between her legs.

The psychic scent of witches had always repulsed him, and the scent was always strongest in the bodily fluids. Maybe because they had been forced on him, it made oral sex a chore. But this was Jaenelle. He loved everything about her. He would've _bathed_ in her psychic scent if that were possible. He licked her greedily, as though he could prove how much he wanted her by doing it _right_ for once.

Jaenelle tried to push him away at first, unused to having a man's mouth _down there_. But Daemon's enthusiasm coupled with the wonderful sensations forced her to lay back and enjoy his ministrations. Soon he brought her to her second release that evening. She collapsed against the bed, like she had no bones.

Daemon crawled back to lay beside her. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight, my Lady?" he asked, formally, in a soft voice that seemed to caress her.

"Always," she breathed, and curled up against him.


End file.
